Common Cathedral

On historic Boston Common, in the shadow of the State House and three bricks-and-mortar churches, Debbie Little, an Episcopal priest, offers Holy Communion on Sundays at 1 p.m. to anyone who comes by. On Easter 1996, a dozen homeless people hanging out in the area accepted Little's invitation to hear some Good News. Today as many as 200 people attend services, gathering in a circle by the triple-tiered Brewer Fountain. The location is convenient, just steps from the Park Street subway station and across Tremont Street from the Cathedral Church of St. Paul and the offices of the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts.

These people -- homeless, formerly homeless, and domiciled -- have given themselves the name Common Cathedral. They meet every Sunday regardless of the weather in what Little calls "the church under a tree." Common Cathedral's facilities are a rough-hewn cross and a rollaway altar made by Gary, a member since Day 1. Gary, wearing denim overalls and a baseball cap, says, "This is the only church that has accepted me as I am." They welcome neighbors from Beacon Hill and Back Bay, passers-by, often tourists on Boston's well-known Freedom Trail, and guests from affiliated churches who provide lunch. The free-form service follows the Book of Common Prayer with plenty of airtime for those who show up. There are always some surprises. Little says she finds this weekly newness energizing, since she is comfortable "flying by the seat of my pants."

On a very cold Sunday in February, Little is hard to find among the 75 to 80 people gathered for worship. She is dressed in corduroy pants, hiking boots and parka, her clerical collar barely visible. Reaching out with bare, red hands, Little invites the congregation to speak. Gary, middle-aged with a youthful demeanor, tells the gathering, "Follow the cross and the cross will follow you." Several others speak about their resurrection from a life of addiction and despair, their love of the Lord and their willingness to assist others.

Everyone is chilled to the bone well before Communion. "The weather is a great equalizer," Little says. Being outdoors removes the hurdle many homeless persons face when it comes to going inside, especially into churches where they may have experienced rejection, abuse or discomfort. When a woman arrives without gloves, Little reaches into a stash she keeps handy to give her a pair.

Little calls upon those present to read the Scripture lesson, pass communion and be the choir. She breaks bread from small, round loaves and chalicists pour grape juice into disposable communion cups. Communion is offered to several men and women sitting on park benches at the edge of the gathering. In future weeks, some may move into the circle and even take leadership roles.

Communication is one of the most important functions of Common Cathedral. Little announces the coming week's schedule of indoor activities at churches within blocks of the Common. The list includes meals, Bible study (including women-only and Spanish), healing services, recovery groups, Common Art (drop-in crafts with a hot meal) and Common Cinema (films on video with popcorn). Richard hands out a pocket-sized card listing meals and shelters in the area and coupons for the laundromat. Little urges everyone to get help for anyone at risk of freezing.

Many of the congregants wear a small cross designed for Common Cathedral around their necks. Little has conferred more than 900 of these distinctive symbols. "People recognize the cross or the brown shoelace under someone's collar," she says, "Often they then feel free to exchange information about shelters or just to reach out to someone new."

Common Cathedral provides emergency food and clothing, legal services and medical care in addition to instruction for baptism and confirmation, conversation and prayer. A wrap-around program, Ecclesia Ministries, includes a pastoral care team to visit hospitalized homeless persons. About 85 volunteers have been trained. Many are students from Greater Boston's nine divinity schools and seminaries who complete field study in street ministry. The City Reach program introduces middle- and high-school students to homeless individuals. Students stay overnight on the floor of the Cathedral, take to the streets with sandwiches and chapsticks, distribute clothing -- and explain what they have learned to their home churches.

Bill is a City Reach teacher. He is also a good example of Common Cathedral's magic at work. Bill arrived on Boston Common after spending a year at a shelter in Quincy, knocked down by a bout of depression and what he terms "an excess of pride." When he came, he reports, "I was a mess, yelling at God. People reached out to me, but I couldn't take it in." However, he watched others participate, and then he jumped right in. Bill now sings with the choir at St. Paul's Cathedral and has his own apartment.

When City Reach students ask Bill how to recognize who is homeless, he tells them he can't always be sure. But, he recommends, "Look at the eyes. With a regular person, they will sparkle. With a homeless person, there is an emptiness, a 1,000-yard stare." Bill also advises his students on how to approach someone on the street -- introduce yourself first, first name only, and use a person's name if they give it. "When we don't have things, we have our pride and our names," he explains.

An ecumenical network of 100 churches provides Common Cathedral with financial support, meals, fellowship, volunteers and prayers. Little preaches in these churches, bringing them wisdom gained from street ministry. She networks with police, medical and housing specialists and advocates with government for the homeless. She helped to establish a shelter for homeless women in Back Bay and participates with downtown churches in the Doorbell Ministry. Clergy share information about resources and have identified unmet needs for storage, laundry facilities and over-the-counter medications.

Churches and Christian organizations provide many services for the homeless within blocks of Boston Common. Boston Rescue Mission/Kingston House, founded in 1899 and located in the Financial District, has a 175-bed shelter and provides meals, clothing, training and service. St. Francis House provides shelter, meals, showers and lockers through the Long Island Shelter Annex on the fifth floor of its building on Boylston Street. Starlight Homeless Ministries has brought food and Christian counseling to the streets at night since 1990.

St. John's Episcopal Church on Bowdoin Street, Beacon Hill, has provided meals for decades. Lisbeth Hall, priest-in-charge and a sculptor, assists at Common Art, the fine arts and crafts program held on Wednesdays from 10 to 3 p.m. The Paulist Center on Park Street overlooking Boston Common provides a hot meal weekly, restrooms and groceries. The Park Street Church supports Starlight Ministries with meals and volunteers. St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral hosts several Common Cathedral programs, including Bible study and Common Cinema.

Street ministries in other cities around the country vary. They serve people on foot, in vans, and in trucks outfitted for hygiene or medical care. Facilities may be an undercroft rented for a dollar a year, a storefront, a tent, or a fully staffed shelter for pregnant and parenting teens. Some provide a never-empty pot of coffee, Sunday dinner because there is no other meal available, or a full complement of meals prepared by formerly homeless people now at work. Some actively bring a Christian message to those they assist, and others give freely with no expectation of return.

The San Francisco Night Ministry (http://www.nightministry.org/), for example, founded in 1964 by Lutheran and United Presbyterian clergy, is there for "the terminally ignored" when churches and social service agencies are closed. Night Minister Donald Fox, an Episcopal priest, says that in this ministry, like that of Jesus, "everyone is equally loved, equally valued and entitled to care." Armed with cell phone and pager, Fox has been on the street between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. for 10 years. The Night Ministry maintains the longest running crisis hotline in San Francisco. Fox encounters people in bars and coffee shops, in hotels and homes, and on the sidewalk and responds to referrals from the hotline, the telephone operator and the police.

In Chicago, Tom Behrens, a United Church of Christ minister and mortgage banker, was in 1974 asked by 18 Chicago churches to undertake a nighttime ministry. For 10 years Behrens worked on the street. When a runaway boy was murdered downtown, Behrens began fundraising to expand youth outreach services. The Chicago Night Ministry (http://www.thenightministry.org/) today has 400 volunteers and 50 staff and is a United Way agency. Behrens is frequently consulted about growing a ministry into a multi-faceted organization. He hopes to establish an institute to help others develop effective street ministry and be a forum for people working with persons who are hard to reach.

Some street ministries focus solely on worship. Keep it simple, you could say. In downtown Seattle, Episcopal priest Susan O'Shea offers Holy Communion every day at noon at the Chapel of St. Martha and St. Mary of Bethany in Seattle's Pike Place Public Market, the oldest operating farmers' market in America. Like chapel founder Carol Ludden, O'Shea offers a ministry of sanctuary and companionship.

"Many people downtown live in marginal circumstances and they enjoy coming here," O'Shea says. The chapel began outdoors as "the church without walls," and today is open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. O'Shea estimates they serve 200 cups of coffee a day and have 1,600 members, many Spanish-speaking.

People of means who have felt marginalized at some point in their lives -- through a struggle with depression or addiction and childhood rejection -- also seem to be drawn to these churches. They also are people who value connecting. Sarah, who regularly worships at both Common Cathedral and a suburban parish, says of Common Cathedral, "If Jesus were here, walking on earth, that's where he would be." She acknowledges that for some people there isn't much we can do but be with them in fellowship and prayer.

Traditional churches say they welcome everyone to worship, but the homeless get a different message from comments like, "You can't bring that in here," or, "How may I help you?" Common Cathedral and other such street ministries put the needs of the homeless first, whether that means not using the prayer book or letting people bring their belongings or their dog.

Still, Little hopes for the time when Common Cathedral isn't needed. The deeply spiritual homeless population craves regular worship at which they are welcome and a church community with no strings attached. Matthew, a man who has been coming to Common Cathedral for four years, agrees. His first reaction to Common Cathedral was, "This is beautiful. It's about time a minister from one of these churches came out to where the poor really are." His enthusiasm led him to become a spokesperson for the homeless and for a year he attended meetings with Little.

But now Matthew has mixed feelings. Real change hasn't occurred. Out of frustration, he's built a model church which he now carries with him. This cardboard edifice is precisely constructed and covered with protest slogans and scripture passages in Matthew's neat hand. The front doors are padlocked. The building is symbolic, but the lock is real.

"The church should be a refuge," Matthew says, "but I'm still locked out."

Carolyn S. Ellis is a writer who lives in the Boston metropolitan area.